Homestuck (NOVELAZATION)
by LampostJournalist
Summary: A novelasation of the webcomic homestuck. I will up8 this whenever. review if you want. Some actual expets are used. I DON'T OWN HOMESTUCK. THAT ACHIEVEMENT WOULD GO TO ANDREW HUSSIE.


A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name! What will this young man's name be?

JOHN EGBERT

You have always been different. You dad has a baking obsession,and overall loves shaving cream. On top of that, dad has filled the house with these absurd clow- excuse you,harlequins as he would likely correct you. You've taken it upon yourself to become a master prankster,which you have. As was previously mentioned it is your BIRTHDAY. A number of CAKES are scattered about your room. You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN. You also like to play GAMES sometimes.

What will you do?

You decide to quickly retrieve the arms from your quickly remembering that your arms are in your magic chest, you scold yourself,quickly dashing to the not before removing the cake blocking the entrance of the chest. Finally,you reach your fake arms. These fake arms are used for your HILARIOUS ANTICS, you decide to captchalogue this in your sylladex. Even though you have no idea what that means. You begin to inspect the contents of your magic chest. Inside of your magic chest are:

TWO (2) FAKE ARMS [CURRENTLY CAPTCHALOGUED IN YOUR SYLLADEX]

ONE (1) PAIR OF TRICK HANDCUFFS

ONE (1) STUNT SWORD

ONE (1) MAGICIAN'S HAT

ONE (1) PAIR OF BEAGLE PUSS GLASSES

SEVERAL (~) SMOKE PELLETS

SEVERAL (~) BLOOD CAPSULES

and ONE (1) COPY OF COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT OF MAGICAL FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY

and ONE (1) COPY OF HARRY ANDERSON'S "WISE GUY", BY MIKE CAVENEY.

All of these are used for HILARIOUS ANTICS OF MANY KINDS though for now you will just snatch the smoke pellets. You captchalogue the smoke pellets in your though you're still not quite sure what this means though,you know have two open spaces in your you attempt to acess your fake arms,BUT WAIT, you cannot acess your fake arms for, the arms are under the smoke pellets in your unfortunate. To cheer yourself from the disappointment that is your sylladex,your walk over to the poster from one of your favorite comics, PROBLEM SLEUTH,you notice the empty spot next to the poster,you have been meaning to hang something else soon... just in time you notice a note on your drawer it reads: Happy birthday son. I am so proud of you. His writing smells of rich fatherly aromas such as aftershave and to the note there is a rolled up poster. Yet another birthday artifact, you are incredibly interested in what is beneath the posters boundaries,but first you need some tools. You go back to your magic chest and grab the hammer sitting next to the now all of your captchalogue cards are full,you wonder what will happen if you take one more item? You captchalogue the nails,thus overflowing the deck and having your fake arms dumped unceremoniously onto the ,well they served little purpose anyway,you guess that HILARIOUS ANTICS can it would be wise to not do that again,as the smoke pellets would be think you have enough tools to do some really important something compells you it's whispering "Squawk like an idiot and crap on your desk..."This is the dumbest idea you've had in weeks! STUPID STUPID STUPID. And yet the polished surface of your desk... It beckons.

You merge the top two cards of your deck. The hammer and nails now reside in the same captchalogue card,ready to be deployed. You use the hammer and nails in conjunction with the poster card beneath it, to hang the items on the wall. It's...It's It's glorious all that you ever could have wished old man really came through this time. You turn around and examine the poster from the MASTERPIECE that is Con Air. Directly to the right of the Con Air poster is another MASTERPIECE of a movie that is Deep Impact. OCEANS RISE. CITIES FALLS. HOPE SURVIVES.

To the right of that poster is your calendar You've marked your birthday, the 13th of April. Another day you marked was supposed to be the arrival date for the highly touted SBURB .

It's been three days already. It's starting to become a sore subject with you.

As you're contemplating eating your (5th) birthday cake,you notice an alert from your dash up to the computer; this is where you spend most of your pesterchum chat client is flashing,it seems one of your friends is attempting to contact you. One of your chums has logged 's sent you a message.

\- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 -

TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today

EB: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, the applejuice scene was so funny.

TG: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here

EB: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage?

TG: but

TG: the seal on the bottle is unbroken

TG: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory

EB: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle?

EB: try using your brain numbnuts.

TG: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like

TG: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous

EB: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice.

TG: ok i can accept that Douchebags running and persistent pranksters

TG: also fred savage has a really punchable face

TG: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it

TG: did you get the beta yet

EB: no.

EB: did you?

TG: man i got two copies already

TG: but i dont care im not going to play it or anything the game sounds boring

TG: did you see how it got slammed in game bro?

EB: game bro is a joke and we both know it.

TG: yeah

TG: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now

EB: alright.

You quickly dash to the window,per TG's instructions, and peer out the see the view of your yard from your window. Hanging from the tree is your TIRE SWING. In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle. That is to say, HE CAN HARDLY BE CONSIDERED A TERRIBLY PROPER GENTLEMAN AT ALL. And there beside your driveway is the mailbox. The little red arm-swingy-dealy thing or whatever it is called is flipped up! What the hell is that thing called anyway. You do not have time for these semantics. The red flippy-lever thing means you have new mail. And that means the beta might be here! You are about to hurry downstairs when you hear a car pull into the driveway. It looks like your DAD has returned from the grocery store. Oh great. He is beating you to the mail. Oh,forget it. You'll check the mail later. But if you dash downstairs,he will take up tons of your it seems like you're trapped in this room,stuck if you will. And now your chum is pestering you again. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity! Whatever. The dude can just hold his damn horses. Now you will walk on over to the magic chest and crack into COLONEL SASSACRES'S DAUNTING TEXT. You decide to consult with the Colonel's bottomless wisdom. Good grief this thing is huge. It could kill a cat if you dropped it.

In a momentary relapse of your attention,you acceindantly captchalogue the fake arms decide that your current miffed state should be reflected in Pesterchum so you change your status to:BULLY. Oh, right, you forgot your chum is still pestering you.

TG: is it there

TG: plz say yes

TG: maybe you can play with TT shes been pestering me all day about it

TG: shes mackin on me so hard all the time i start to feel embarrassed for her

TG: i mean not that i can blame her or anything

EB: yes, it is understandable because you are really attractive. i am attracted to you.

TG: thank you

EB: jk haha.

EB: no, i don't have it yet.

EB: my dad has the mail and i guess i have to go get it from him and see if it's there.

EB: and i've been busy spending all afternoon shitting around with my stupid sylladex.

EB: it's so frustrating.

TG: whats your modus

EB: what?

TG: how do you retrieve artifacts from it

EB: oh. like one at a time i guess. and if i put too much in, something falls out.

TG: stack? hahahahahaha

EB: what is yours?

TG: hash map

TG: my bro taught me a few tricks he basically knows everything and is awesome

EB: what the hell is that?

TG: you should probably brush up on your data structures

EB: i guess.

TG: did you at least allocate your strife specibus

EB: no.

TG: it could free up a card for you

TG: plus let you attack stuff whenever things get too hot to handle

TG: which is never

TG: what have you got

EB: well, i've got a hammer but it's trapped under some arms.

TG: wow you really suck at this dont you

TG: just get rid of the arms and then allocate the hammer to the specibus

EB: how?

TG: i dont know just use the arms on any old thing and see if it works

To try to comprehend how this works,it's time for some HILARIOUS ANTICS to take place. You stick your fake arms in the cake. This makes the cake at least 300% more hilarious. Per TG's instructions you allocate your hammer to your strife hammer has been transported from your Captchalogue to your Strife return to your computer and report you progress to TG:

EB: ok, i did it.

TG: hammerkind?

EB: yeah.

TG: ok that will be the permanent allocation for your specibus

TG: i guess i should have mentioned that

EB: uh...

TG: hope you like hammers dude!

EB: yeah, that's fine i guess. i can't imagine it's going to be all that relevant.

You decide to captchalogue your copy of Colonel Sassacres inspect your GameBro Magazine. The cover is graced with the words:

SBURB

Why the "Game of the Year" or whatever isn't as good as some other stuff that I like better.

"So ok. Sburb is this game that a lot of cats seem hella excited for. And this beta is sitting on my desk for review,so i'm like yeah man I'll write something. But I don't know. This is about houses? Or some noise? That's fine, I'm sure that's fucking dynamite in a handbag for some brosephs. But all I'm saying is, when do you get to thrash anything? While you're playing house or some shit, are you ever in jeopardy of getting mud on your doll's dress or whatever from busting out, and I qoute "the mad stunts all up ins"? Know what I'm saying my Bro=======this is stupid.

You captchalogue this piece of trash TG calls literature,it might come in handy if you need something flammable. You captchalogue your magican's hat and let it fill up your sylladex. You attempt to grab the funny glasses too, but since there isn't enough space you combine it with your magican's hat to form the CLEVER DISGUISE. You place your CLEVER DISGUISE on your head an- wa-wait who is this? Where did you go? Well what is your name?

BEAG-

WAIT. It's you isn't it. It's a pretty shitty disguise. While you are wearing the items, they remain on the card, but it is temporarily removed from the deck, thus freeing up the cards beneath it. You exit into the HALLWAY. On one wall hangs a picture of a fella who sure knows how to have a laugh, a man after your own heart. You always thought he looked a lot like Michael Cera. But your DAD swears on the many HALLOWED TOMBS of Egypt that it is not. You're not sure about that though.

On the other wall is one of your DAD'S stupid clowns. Or HARLEQUINS, as he is quick to correct anyone who would venture such brazen assumption. You proceed downstairs to the room waiting below. The accursed odor of fresh baking wafts into your newfound nostrils. Something is brewing in the KITCHEN. It must be the connivings of your arch nemesis, , and the rich, buttery aroma of her plot stinks to high heaven.

This mission is going to be more difficult than you imagined.

You traverse your living room to the shelf of fanciful Harlequins. Look at this fucking garbage. You hate this stuff. Funny is funny, but your DAD sure can be a real cornball. Sometimes at night you pray for burglars.


End file.
